One Night Stand
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: Alfred is in love with Matthew. Matthew is oblivious. After one drunken night, Alfred regrets his loss of control and says nothing, hoping to protect their friendship . Too bad Matthew actually wants to find the person he slept with.
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, so, this plot bunny showed up and totally started tearing up my sheets and refused to leave until I typed up this story. Gotta watch out for those dastardly creatures. Just one thing, the section with all italics is a flashback. Other than that, enjoy!

Summary: Alfred is in love with Matthew. Matthew is oblivious. After one drunken night, Alfred regrets his loss of control and hopes Matthew will never find out. Too bad Matthew actually wants to find the person he slept with.

Parings: Eventual Alfred/Matthew, others TBA

Warnings: AU (_yes_), language, slash, OOCness

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

* * *

"_And I saddle up my horse. And I ride into the city. I make a lot of noise."_

The cell phone, that was once sitting quietly and innocently on the nightstand, began to flash and vibrate, the incessant song shrilling from its tiny speaker. The sole occupant on the bed groaned and burrowed deeper into his cocoon of blankets, held tight to the last vestiges of sleep and tried to ignore whoever was calling.

"_Save a horse, ride a cowboy!!!"_

Muffled curses rose from the lump on the bed before the young man dug out of his covers and grabbed the phone. With golden curls sticking out in all directions (one particularly rebellious one hung between his eyes) and bleary violet eyes, the man flipped open the phone and snarled, "I hate you."

"Well, good morning to you too!" Came the chipper response. "Like the new ringtone? I wanted to make sure you knew who it was without even looking at the screen. So do you like it? Huh, do you?"

"Alfred. It's," The blond squinted at his digital clock, " barely eight o'clock. You shouldn't even be up."

"Matt. Dude. I was up all night preparing."

With a sigh, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. He could tell Alfred was riding a caffeine high. Who knew how much coffee the other had consumed during the night? "Preparing for what?"

"The Zombie Apocalypse." It was said with such seriousness that Matthew could hear the capitalized words. The blond fell back on the bed with a soft grunt. It was too early for Alfred's insanity. Unfortunately, the other kept babbling on. "—So the underground bunker is stocked with enough supplies for at least six months. And bullets too. We need those, but we have to be careful. We have to kill the zombies with a single shot to the head. And then shoot them again. Double-tap. Can't be too careful, dude."

"Alfred. Try to get some sleep."

"But Matt! This is important! We need a plan for when the zombies invade! I mean, we can't just stay in the bunker all the time."

"We?"

"Yeah, of course! Me (the hero) and you (my sidekick)! What? Did you think I'd leave my best friend and sidekick to have his brain eaten by zombies? No way! I'll save you before that happens!"

Matthew grinned softly. Alfred, despite being loud and annoying and generally obnoxious and an asshole at times, was well intentioned and fairly sweet.

"Oh and I'm in your kitchen. And you're out of chips." Matthew's smile tightened and he felt his eye twitch. "I got hungry. So, when're you gonna get out here and make me some pancakes?"

Never mind what he said. Alfred was an asshole.

* * *

Alfred watched Matthew standing at the stove, dressed in only a pair of crimson boxers, silently flipping pancakes. The other man had run out of his bedroom and began to scold him, saying call me beforehand, don't just sneak in, don't call before ten and don't mess with my phone, and how did you even get in because Gilbert ate the spare while drunk.

Alfred contritely listened and decided not to tell Matthew that he made spare copies of his apartment key months ago.

Luckily, the rant had lasted less than fifteen minutes and Alfred was thankful because Matthew could go on for hours (his current record was at three hours).

But now, after brushing his teeth, Matthew was refusing to speak to him for some reason. Instead, the other man concentrated on his task and ignored the other.

So Alfred was left to watch Matthew since nothing would be on TV.

Not that watching Matthew was so bad.

Sky blue eyes narrowed slightly behind glasses as they trailed over pale skin and a lithe body. Matthew was fairly tall but very slender, and didn't have the same muscle tone as his self but it never stopped the violet-eyed blond from playing (and completely dominating) at hockey. Light blond hair ended just below his ears and hung in waves around his face and clung to his neck while he cooked. Alfred's gaze began to drift lower, gliding over minutely shifting muscles covered by soft-looking skin and down to, quite possibly, the most amazing ass Alfred had ever seen on anyone. When he finally would kiss Matt, he would totally reach down and—

Alfred swallowed roughly and averted his gaze, feeling a hot blush rise against his face.

He totally had the hots for his best friend.

Not that this surprised him. He had been harboring a crush on the other since their school days. Even though he hadn't realized it at first (though some of their other friends had…), he always knew he had a bond with Matthew that he had never had with anyone else and doubted that he would. He had just known that the other boy was special and important to him and that he wanted to keep Matthew in his life as long as he could. Even at their first meeting, Alfred just _knew._

_

* * *

Alfred whistled cheerfully, the frigid temperature not dimming his cheer in the least. It was the last day before winter break and tomorrow he'd be able to wake up after one and spend the entire day in his boxers, watching cartoons and eating hamburgers._

_It would be awesome._

_The sound of yelling tugged the blond out of his musing and he turned to see a group of students skating swiftly on the large campus pond. Apparently, it had completely frozen over and the group had taken advantage of that fact and started up a game of hockey._

_Alfred paused and stood still to watch the game briefly. The players all seemed to be members of the hockey team because he could see Matthias and that creepy Communist guy out there. But suddenly a flash of gold caught his eye and he saw a single player dart out, puck in possession, and, in one sharp movement, swiftly scored. A round of cheers broke out along with a few grumbled curses as the player fist pumped. _

_The game seemed to slow after that and no fights seemed to be on the verge of breaking out, so Alfred felt himself becoming bored. Turning with a crunch on the fresh snow, he began to head back to the dorm._

_However, luck wasn't on his side._

"_Watch out!" Someone cried out._

_Alfred looked over his shoulder, wondering who was yelling at who, when he caught sight of a black disk heading his way—_

_And then everything went dark._

"_We should take him to the infirmary." A soft voice, tinted with worry, said._

"_There is no need, Matvey. This one has a hard head." _

"_He's not responding Ivan!"_

"_Nah, he's waking up. Can you hear us, Jones?" That sounded like Matthias._

_Alfred groaned and his eyes fluttered open._

"_Are you okay?"_

_The face of whomever leaning over him slowly came into focus. The person, whose face was colored with concern, looked remarkably like him._

"_Are you my long-lost twin?" He whispered, awe-struck._

_His 'twin' looked confused for a moment and then said, hesitantly, "Maybe we should take him to the infirmary now. I think he has head trauma."_

"_No, he is just an idiot."_

_Alfred was too busy staring at his near doppelganger to respond to Ivan. Though there were some similarities, the differences were too many to ignore. The other boy's hair was a pale shade of gold and framed his face with messy waves whereas Alfred's hair was a darker shade and shorter. His eyes were a swirling mix of violet and shades of blue. The other's face was softer, lacking the sharp angles Alfred had. The other boy looked smaller too and had a quiet shyness about him. And he was kind of pretty…_

"_I'm Alfred." Said blond announced, holding out his hand to the blond. "Alfred Jones."_

_The blond looked surprised but then smiled warmly, grasping his hand. "Matthew Williams. Pleased to make your acquaintance."_

* * *

The silence was starting to grate on Alfred. He was starting to think Matthew was angry with him.

"Matt." No answer. "Mattie." Alfred tried again in a wheedling tone. The only response he got was the sound of a pancake being moved to a plate. "Are you mad?"

"No." Matthew said, sighing. Pouring some batter into the pan, he grabbed the plate of pancakes and left the stove. Coming to a stop in front of the table, he set them down in front of Alfred. He then moved back to the stove to make sure the pancake didn't burn.

"Yes, you are." Alfred sulked, reaching for the bottle of maple syrup that always stood on Matthew's kitchen table. "I can tell you know."

Matthew refrained from reminding Alfred that he still thought 'reading the atmosphere' was the title of a perpetually sold out book.

"Is this about the chips?"

"No, Al, this is not about the chips. This isn't about anything. I'm not angry." Was the flat response Matthew gave.

"You are too angry!" Alfred argued. "I'm sorry for whatever I did. Just don't be mad at me." He added in a softer voice, "I don't want you to be mad at me."

Matthew's shoulders slumped and he exhaled softly. "Al, I'm not mad. I promise."

"So we're not fighting right? And you're definitely not mad."

Matthew turned the oven off and brought a fresh plate for himself to the table. He smiled gently at Alfred and said, "No, we're not fighting. And I am definitely not mad."

Alfred felt his heart flutter at the warm smile directed at him and, without Matthew asking, he passed the syrup.

The smile he got for that was more beautiful that sunrises and sunsets and free french-fries combined. He felt his breath catch in his throat.

The slightly domestic scene continued in companionable silence for a few minutes before Alfred spoke up again. "Oh, and by the way, this is your favorite syrup right?"

Matthew, poised to eat another mouthful of pancake, nodded.

Alfred grinned. "Awesome! Because I have at least a year's supply stocked in the bunker."

Violet eyes widened and shimmered with happiness. Matthew felt his heart swell with joy and, laughingly, he told Alfred, "And Arthur thinks you can't plan ahead. You're the best, Al."

Alfred watched as Matthew finished off his breakfast with a cheerful grin and the darker haired blond wanted nothing more than to pull the other close and kiss him and never let him go.

Oh sweet apple pie and Reagan, he was definitely in love.

* * *

I am not giving Alfred a specific political orientation. I just think of Stephen Colbert and that dad from American Dad when I think of Alfred. -shot- But yes, that was that. I did have fun writing this. And so I hope people enjoyed this. Let me know how you all feel!


	2. Chapter 2

Because I couldn't get the next part out of my head and because I really, really don't want to study for my exam this week, here is the next chapter. It's fairly long, in my opinion. There is a lovely flashback in italics. I'm trying to take the story slow rather than rushing the story to get to the sex (...though I kinda want to...). Sorry to people who are really excited for that scene, but it is coming up and I will do my best to write it. -headdesk- Smut/sexiness is not my thing but I will try! -fist pump- But before that, I want to flesh out Alfred and Matthew's relationship because it really is sweet and the two are close. I hope no one minds. ^.^; But, hey, guess what? There are some special appearances from different characters. :D And thanks to everyone who reviewed/fav'd/watch out for/enjoys this story! I don't have the time to reply to everyone individually, but know that I am very grateful. Please enjoy this chapter~~

EDIT: Right, _beau frere_ does mean step-brother. Its something I should've realized at first. Thanks to those who pointed it out.

Warnings: Language, OOCness, fluff, slash, whiny!Alfred

Pairing: past Alfred/Mai (Mai is the name I gave Vietname), mentioned Matt/Katyusha (Katyusha is Ukraine), eventual Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

"Hey Al, have you seen my—" Matthew shouted, wandering into the sitting area of his apartment. The rest of his words died quickly on his lips as he glanced over and saw Alfred sprawled out on his plush but worn couch, completely dead to the world. Seems he had finally crashed from his caffeine high. "Oh Alfred." Matthew smiled fondly at the sleeping blond. Quietly, the slightly younger man reached over and plucked off the glasses that were perched precariously on the other's nose and placed them on the coffee table. Then, grabbing the woolen throw folded neatly on the back of the couch, draped it over the slumbering man, taking care to make sure his feet and shoulders were covered.

To an outsider, the entire routine looked practiced and loving. And, in fact, Matthew was used to taking care of the other male. Throughout school, the younger blond often found himself dragging the workaholic boy back to his dorm room at odd hours of the night. He'd often play peacekeeper between Alfred and whatever student he'd manage to anger while meddling in the other student's affairs (of course, Alfred called it being a 'hero'). He'd clean up after Alfred and defend him, even when people confused him for Alfred and turned their rage in his direction.

Of course, it wasn't a one-sided relationship. Students at their boarding school learned early on, that messing with Matthew meant the beginning of war with Alfred. Anyone who so much as bumped into the other blond in the hallway (having not seen him due to Matthew's quietness and unfortunate superhuman ability to blend into the background) and didn't apologize would earn Alfred's wrath.

Alfred was the last student anyone wanted to cross at school.

Of course, no one was keen on crossing Matthew either. No one was quite sure what happened, but for the longest time Gilbert and his younger brother Ludwig avoided the slender blond like the plague. And there was that time that Matthew knocked out Ivan with one punch…

Basically, everyone learned from the mistakes of an unfortunate few and stayed on amiable terms with both students.

Except Ivan. He found perverse pleasure in taunting Alfred. But he was on fair terms with Matthew.

So Matthew would not hesitate to admit that he and Alfred had a close relationship. Some said that they were the perfect married couple. Others joked that it was borderline homoerotic. Both viewpoints made Matthew blush bright red and Alfred would always laugh in the 'ahahahah watch your back because I will cut you'. But neither would deny that they were close.

Matthew would say there were almost like brothers.

Alfred always felt a little bit of his soul die whenever Matthew compared their selves to brothers.

And the people closest to them were just waiting for Alfred to grow the spine to confess and that Matthew would finally realize that when a bro slaps your ass and then lets his hand _linger_, it becomes less 'Hey buddy' and more 'I want to tap this' with each passing nanosecond.

But then again, Matthew did grow up with a brother like Francis. As Arthur would say, the poor boy probably thought molestation was just another way to say "Hello. Lovely weather isn't it?"

However, that is not the point. And the truth was that Matthew saw nothing wrong with taking care of Alfred regularly because the other man was truly a dear friend.

And he wouldn't lie. Sometimes, late at night before falling asleep, he wished Alfred were there because he always felt safer when the other blond was near. Sometimes, when it was quiet he would imagine the other bursting in and dragging him on a harebrained, barely thought out adventure. And sometimes, he didn't think it would be so bad to take their relationship to the next level.

But Matthew was certain, despite Alfred's affectionate and touchy-feely actions and the near constant hints Alfred dropped that he wouldn't mind Matthew moving in with him, the blond was straight (evidence being the trail of women and stream of relationships he left scattered behind him).

Besides, Alfred was the type to go after what he wanted. If he truly wanted Matthew, the vivacious blond would have made his intentions clear.

So, Matthew, as he left his best friend to his sleep, decided that things were just fine the way they were.

* * *

"_You know if you spent half as much time with me as you do Matthew, then I wouldn't be so angry!" Mai snapped, flipping her long black ponytail over her shoulder. The ice in her voice barely came close to the cold rage in her brown eyes._

"_You can't expect me to ditch my friends, Mai." Alfred retorted, trying to keep his voice level so as to not draw attention to the rapidly deteriorating situation. "That's not fair."_

_The Vietnamese girl's eyes widened and then the rage came back full force. She roughly poked Alfred square in the chest with a slender finger. "I never asked you to do anything of the sort! I didn't say anything when you had to break a date to go study with Kiku for economics! I never complained when you ran off during our dinners to go play hero! I hate hockey but I still went with you to each of Matthew's games! Most girls would break up with a guy for less than half the shit you pulled!" She emphasized each point with a sharp poke. "It's so difficult to get you to commit to anything now! You never have time for me. But oh for Matthew you have all the time in the world!" She hissed icily. "He's a good friend, I'm sure, but I'm your girlfriend. You're dating me not him."_

_Alfred froze at her words, blue eyes wide._

_Mai smiled bitterly. "I like you Alfred. You're sweet and charming and I was happy with you. But lately, its like you don't even see me. It's like you could care less about what we have. And I don't want to stay with someone like that. I tried, I really did. But I'm done." She stepped back from the shocked boy. "Good-bye Alfred."_

_And, without a second glance, the dark-haired girl walked away, leaving an extremely confused American behind._

_She was right, he knew. On so many things, she was right._

_Still taken aback by the turn of events, Alfred turned mutely and walked away, avoiding the sympathetic gazes of eavesdroppers. Not quite sure where he was going, he let his feet lead him to wherever, not really seeing but beyond caring._

_At one time, he had adored Mai. He had wanted her and finally won her over (and beating Ivan who also had his eye on her). She was funny and kind and intelligent and outgoing and a complete tomboy. But she had the sweetest blush and cutest smile that kept him smitten. And he was happy._

_But, things began to change. And, really, if Alfred had to choose a specific moment, it would have to have been the day Matthew came to him, eyes swirling with excitement and face aglow, that he had a date with Katyusha._

_And Alfred felt an odd, freezing sensation settle at the pit of his stomach. He felt paralyzed and unable to speak and it wasn't until Matthew looked at him oddly and asked if he was all right that Alfred broke his silence and congratulated the other blond._

_But the words felt heavy and false, though Matthew, absolutely elated to have a date with the object of his yearlong affections, the pretty Ukrainian blond who also happened to be Ivan's elder sister, that he didn't notice his friend's false cheer._

_And Alfred felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under his feet and he felt angry and he felt annoyed and he didn't know why._

_From that point onwards, he couldn't help but cling to whatever moment he had with Matthew because every other time the Canadian would either be busy with school and sports or with Katyusha._

_Alfred, who used to drool over the buxom blonde like other guys, suddenly found her unappealing and unworthy and couldn't help but glower whenever she was mentioned. _

_Though, he always rationalized his actions as being annoyed with sharing Matthew's attention with someone else (because, really, Matthew had a small group of friends and aside from that, not many people noticed him let alone paid attention to him). _

_But, maybe it wasn't that simple, that innocent. Maybe—_

"_Al? You okay?" A quiet voice interrupted his musings and Alfred glanced up at the speaker. Matthew was standing at his dorm room door, key in hand and watching his friend with bemused eyes. _

_His feet had led him to Matthew._

_Alfred felt his breath catch._

_Well, damn._

* * *

"You've been putting it off too long. Stop being a pansy, and just go snog him. God knows how long you've wanted to do so." Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Honestly, you have no sense of _amour_." A smooth voice cut in. "But that's to be expected of an Englishman. Lie back and think of England or some stupidity, correct?"

"Be quiet you wanker. Better a gentleman than a frog."

"You are hardly a gentleman, _mon cher_. Do not try to fool yourself." Francis laughed mockingly.

"Hey! Lovesick guy over here in need of help!"

Two pairs of eyes turned from their silent glaring contest to Alfred.

"We have been trying for years to assist you, you useless sod." Arthur snapped, thick eyebrows bristling. "You're just too much of a coward."

"For once, I agree." Francis added. The stylishly dressed man tossed him an unimpressed look. The Frenchman tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear and then crossed his arms. "Even after I gave my blessing, you' still hesitated. You have been pining for _mon mignon frère _for years. Honestly, I'm surprised you have not ruined your entire wardrobe with how much you salivate whenever he is near."

"Hey! I do not drool!"

"You do." Arthur said in a no nonsense voice. "It's unsightly."

"_Mathieu _adores you, Alfred." Francis began, idly swirling his wine. It had taken weeks of loudly complaining and insulting the Queen and molesting Arthur before the sandy-haired man began to stock wine in his bar (pub!), defending his action by saying it would bring in more business.

Arthur, Alfred's older brother, had opened a bar (pub, damn it, pub!) after two years of working in a dull cubicle and deciding that there was a severe lack of authentic alcohol establishments in the States (Alfred just thought it was because the other had already been kicked out of the surrounding bars because of violent, drunken behavior. Arthur denies this vehemently). It was an uncharacteristic move for the stuffy man but it had proven to be a successful endeavor.

It became the meeting ground of their circle of friends and gained a fairly large group of devoted regulars. Arthur, though stern and strict, proved to be popular (surprising, Alfred would say).

And it also became a safe place for Alfred to mope and sulk about his unrequited love before it officially opened. Like he was now, having arrived after waking up to an empty apartment (Matthew had gone to run errands and left a note saying he wouldn't be back until late so Alfred had gotten bored).

"He'll probably be disgusted and refuse to speak to me ever again!" Alfred whined, letting his head thump against the polished wood of the counter. "I don't want him to stop being my friend!"

"Don't do that. I just polished it." Arthur snapped, adding. "And you are talking about Matthew Williams right? Our Matthew Williams? If he's stuck around you this long, I doubt finding out his best friend wants to bugger him will scare him away."

"Eloquent as always, _cher_." Francis murmured into his wine glass, then in a louder voice. "_Mathieu_ adores you Alfred. He will not stop being your friend over this. Things may be awkward at first, _c'est possible_, but the two of you will come out as friends. And, you never know, he might not be adverse to the idea." Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Alfred didn't look convinced. "You don't know that."

"What? And you do?" Arthur scowled. "You won't ever know until you make a bloody move!" He slammed his hand down on the counter. "For years you have twiddled your thumbs, making excuses here and there. You go out with women—and don't think I haven't noticed that they've all been blond with purple eyes lately—so that no one suspects anything. And you sit by and let every chance slip through your fingers. Then you always come back here and whimper like a child. Start acting like an adult. And if you can't do that, perhaps you should just give up. Because why would Matthew want such an indecisive, gormless twat?"

Alfred looked as though Arthur had physically struck him. Hurt and the pained realization that the man was right crept into his expression. And, with a sniffle, the blond let his head fall back to the counter with a heavy thud.

And a heavy silence settled over the three men.

"_Tu étais trop __sévère." _Francis chided, blue eyes dark with displeasure.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably and looked guiltily at his utterly depressed younger brother. This wasn't the exuberant, overconfident boy he was used. He and Alfred weren't close and it always made him happy when the other would come to him for help or advice, however rare the occasion.

Their parents had met in college when their father, an American, studied abroad a semester in London. Their mother and father had married young and though they loved each other, the marriage hadn't worked out and the two had split on bad terms. Their mother had taken Arthur and moved back to England while Alfred stayed with their father in America (Alfred could trace his ancestry back to the first colonists).

Arthur, having memories of his early years growing up with Alfred (there being a five year difference between the two), attempted to stay on good terms with his younger brother even after his mother remarried and he got two elder stepbrothers. He even invited Alfred to stay at his flat when the other moved to England for schooling. Unfortunately, the two begin to argue more and more and their once good relationship soured. It finally climaxed in Alfred storming out of the flat and moving into the dormitories. Arthur had regretted the fight, but he refused to go running after the other.

It was only recently that their relationship began to improve due to resolute efforts on both parties.

So Arthur sighed, and in a softer but no less firm tone, said, "That was harsh of me, Alfred. But, the truth remains the same. If you want to do something, then do something."

Alfred slowly looked up at the older man and Arthur gave him a small, encouraging smile.

"Then…" Alfred started, determination sparking in pacific blue eyes, "I'll tell him tonight!"

"Good man." Arthur nodded.

"_Bonne chance_." Francis added, a pleased smile overtaking his handsome features.

* * *

Translations for fail!French:

Mon mignon frere: my cute brother

cher: dear

Tu etais trop severe: You were too harsh.

Bonne chance: Good luck.

So... yeah. Hope everyone enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone following this story! I'm glad people are enjoying it because I am having fun writing it. So, yes, this chapter is up. Honestly, I don't follow a set schedule of updating. If the idea hits me, I write it out and post it up. So if some stories are updated slower than others, it just means I'm figuring out the next part. Ah, and warning for this chapter, its a bit more angsty than the last two. But it will not always be like this, believe me. So, without any further delay, enjoy!

Warnings: language, angst, OOCness, slash, brief appearance of gropy!Francis

Pairings: eventual Alfred/Matthew, hinted Lars (Holland)/Matthew (-evil cackle-)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Taking the steps two at a time, Alfred bounded up the stairs of Matthew's apartment complex, worn sneakers smacking against the steps loudly. His heart was racing and his throat felt dry but all he could focus on was, this was it, this was it, he was _finally_ going to confess.

He was running towards his future (one he fervently hoped included Matthew by his side, preferably holding his hand).

He could be running towards his end (because what else would it be if he lost the other's friendship? He didn't want to go on without Matthew).

All he knew was that it was time to stop running.

Coming to a halt before his best friend's door, Alfred steadied himself and took several deep breaths.

Years of pining, desiring. Years of wasted chances, of averting his eyes and changing the subject. Years of sitting on his hands when he should've been reaching out.

Maybe a stronger person could go on, content with simply having the object of their affections in their life.

Maybe Alfred was weak. But he didn't just want the other blond in his life. He wanted Matthew by his side. He wanted Matthew in his arms. He wanted Matthew in his bed. He wanted Matthew in his future.

Alfred wanted to be the first person Matthew thought of in the morning. He wanted to be the last person Matthew dreamt about. He wanted to be Matthew's hero and lover and best friend forever and ever and ever.

He wanted Matthew to love him as much as Alfred loved Matthew.

Alfred stared at the painted door.

For so long, he had tried to ignore the attraction, thinking it would eventually disappear. And then, when it became too difficult to ignore, he let his fears run free.

Matthew wouldn't return his feelings. Matthew would hate him. Matthew would feel awkward around him. Matthew would stop being his friend. Matthew would leave him.

But Arthur and Francis argued with him, told him that he wasn't giving Matthew enough credit. He was simply making excuses. He was too afraid of rejection, of losing.

He always hated to lose.

But he watched as others entered Matthew's life and held his breath until they left, not finding it in him to interfere.

But he never made his move. He never wanted to.

Not to mention Matthew always looked so happy...

Blue eyes hardened with determination. He was Alfred F. Jones. If he wanted something, he went after it. He never looked before leaping, dealing with consequences as they crossed his way. But whenever he gathered enough courage to look into those pretty violet eyes, he froze and stumbled over his words, coming across as an idiot, an ass, and a jester. He tripped before he even leapt, and lost hope.

But he was in love. And that was the kick in the pants he needed.

Alfred closed his eyes and grabbed the brass doorknob.

He was finally ready to leap.

_

* * *

It was supposed to be a fun night. Alfred and Matthew had been invited to a party by some alumni that attended their boarding school. Francis, Matthew's older brother and one of the planners, had leveled layer after layer of guilt until Matthew agreed to show up. And Alfred, knowing Arthur (who would also be at the party) wouldn't want him anywhere within a 10 mile radius of the rave and being a long time party lover, had cheerfully come as well._

_The night had started well. Francis had found them in the crowd (followed closely by Arthur). After hugging Matthew (and patting the younger boy on the rump, sneaking in small squeeze or two), finally relinquished the brightly blushing boy after Arthur grabbed him by his hair and pulled until Francis's scalp burned. _

_(Alfred found out later that Arthur was well acquainted with Matthew. Their mother, following her move back to England, had set up play dates between him and Francis before the boys moved to school and Matthew, as a toddler, had often came along. Arthur, who immediately became attached to the cherubic child, despite Matthew's initial disliking of the him, who reminded him of Alfred but with a much sweeter and docile disposition, had named himself as the child's adopted brother and kept Francis's more 'affectionate' actions to a minimum. Alfred was a bit jealous at first, then he realized how 'affectionate' Francis could be and he thanked Arthur, grudgingly, for protecting Matthew's virtue.)_

_Then, dragging the amorous Frenchman away, Arthur ordered them not to do anything too stupid or illegal (making sure to meaningfully glare at Alfred while speaking)._

_Alfred, then, saw Kiku in the crowd and ran towards the Japanese boy, completely forgetting Matthew and not hearing the blond's attempts to call him back._

_It was almost two hours later, when Gilbert (a good friend of Francis who always looked like he would piss himself whenever Matthew was nearby) stopped rambling about some guy named Fritz and asked where the Canadian was (while covertly glancing around)._

_And Alfred, drink in hand, blinked slowly, wondering what the hell Gilbert was talking about because it was almost impossible to hear anything over the music._

_And then Matthias, leaned down and, right in his ear, yelled, "Where's Captain?"_

_Then it hit Alfred. He had abandoned Matthew and completely forgot about him._

_Fuck. He'd never win Matthew's heart if he kept doing that._

"_Fuck." Alfred swore, spinning around on his heel. "I lost him. Fuck!"_

"_Well, that does tend to happen with Captain." Matthias mused and Gilbert cackled._

"_Bet he's pissed." Scarlet eyes gleamed, taking pleasure in the way Alfred was freaking out. "You're so fucked Jones."_

"_You think I don't know that?" Alfred growled, throwing a dirty look at the two useless bastards who seemed happy to watch him suffer. Drink in hand, Alfred started to push through the people, blue eyes searching frantically for the missing blond._

_Arthur and Francis would probably both be mad too._

_But Matthew… _

_Matthew might straight up murder him._

_Or, worse, decide to never go out with him! (…once he got around to asking him of course)._

_The room was packed with countless people and Alfred only hoped that some pervert hadn't cornered Matthew. Or drugged Matthew. Or dragged him off to some sketchy alleyway to have his wicked way with the blond before slitting his throat and then disposing of his body behind the garbage._

_Alfred blanched and he began to feel frantic._

_Alfred was so caught up with his thoughts that he almost missed the sound of someone calling him. He turned in the direction he thought the voice came from and, instantly, relief flooded through him._

"_Matthew!" He ran up to the blond and grabbed him, taking care not to spill his beer onto the other. "I was looking everywhere for you! I was so worried!" He squeezed the slighter boy tighter. "I'm so glad you're not bleeding to death in the alley!"_

_Matthew kinda smelled like maple syrup._

"_I'm glad I'm not either." Matthew said dryly, choosing not to remind the other that it was he who left in the first place. "Mind letting go now?"_

_With an embarrassed laugh, Alfred reluctantly let the other go and watched as Matthew adjusted his glasses. He then gestured to a tall, ashen haired man next to him (who Alfred noticed just then). "Alfred, this is Lars. I ran into him a bit after you ran off." The statement carried the slightest bit of ice and Alfred flinched minutely, before turning his attention to the guy._

_Lars was pretty tall, maybe as tall as Matthias, and Alfred had to tilt his head upward just the slightest bit. The man had a faint scar on his forehead. His pale hair was spiked upwards and had dark amber eyes. He was well built and not too unattractive and had a cheerful grin._

"_Hey." Lars said, voice carrying an accent Alfred couldn't place. _

"—_his sister and Francis and Arthur all studied together. He's the one who taught me how to skate!" Matthew's excited voice broke through Alfred's study of the man. The blond looked…really happy. _

"_I didn't do anything. You were a natural on the ice." The tall man said, ruffling Matthew's hair and smiling down at the blond. "Matt here also helped me out a while back. If he hadn't…" Lars trailed off, voice becoming nostalgic. His hand rested on top of wavy hair. "…well, it wouldn't have been very pretty."_

_Matthew blushed and looked away. "It was nothing really."_

_And Alfred just wished Lars would remove his hand from his Matthew._

_And then he wished that Lars would go jump off a fucking cliff._

* * *

"Matthew! I have something to tell…." Alfred's voice died in his throat.

Matthew stared at him quizzically from the couch. "Alfred. I thought you went home…?"

But Alfred was too busy staring in surprise at the man sitting next to Matthew, arms draped across the back of the couch and looking like he owned the place.

Lars waved lazily at him.

"I…was at the bar." Alfred said slowly, turning his gaze back to Matthew. What the fuck was Lars doing there?

Matthew, seeing the unspoken question in his eyes, rushed to answer. "Um, well, I was driving back from the grocery store and I decided to stop and get some gas. And I saw that a new bakery had opened across the street. It was getting late, but I decided to go it out anyways." He flushed faintly in embarrassment. Alfred couldn't help but smile. Matthew loved baked treats. "And it was just about to close as I entered and guess who I saw? Belle and Lars! She decided to move here and open a bakery. And apparently it was supposed to be a surprise. So I invited them over, but Belle had work to do so Lars came over because he's only visiting."

"I took off a week to help out my baby sister." He grinned. "Now she can't say that I never help or support her."

"Oh." Alfred said, dully.

"Anyways, as I was saying. I'd better get going." The lanky man stood, followed close behind by Matthew. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, of course!" Matthew replied eagerly.

Alfred frowned and half-heartedly returned Lars's wave. With narrowed eyes, he watched as Matthew softly shut the door and turned around, a wide smile on his face.

"What's happening tomorrow?" Alfred asked casually, tone not hinting at the dread churning in his gut.

"Oh, that." Matthew blushed pink and looked away. "Well, he asked if I was free to have dinner. And I said that I was…"

Alfred's throat felt dry and he swallowed roughly. "So it's a date." He announced, flatly.

Matthew's blush darkened and, in an attempt to change the topic, he asked, curiously, "What did you have to tell me, Al?"

Alfred looked down, glaring at the carpet. A heavy feeling had settled over him and it felt like someone was squeezing his heart. He clenched and unclenched his hands into loose fists.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't say it. He really was weak.

He just hoped he hadn't lost for good this time.

* * *

I really don't think its easy confessing to a friend that you like them as more than a friend. I've done so and it didn't end well for me, but I don't think I'm the only one. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we don't and that's why Alfred was so cautious. He really has agonized over this because he and Matt are very close. Oh, and the boys are in their twenties because I did not make that clear. And no, there will not always be a flashback. Hehe, sometimes I just feel they fit.

Also, my apologies for getting everyone excited in the last chapter. I feel really guilty. :( But if Alfred confessed, well, my idea is shot. ^^; But stick with me, lovelies, if you can. Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I suppose, the next chapter is the one where the story really begins.... -crawls back under rock-


	4. Chapter 4

Alrighty now, folks. Here I have, in my opinion, a fairly long chapter. Because I adore you all. Thank you to everyone following this story, I'm truly flattered by the interest in it. Please enjoy this newest installment!

Warnings: language, alcohol use, OOCness, some sexual-ness

Pairings: hinted Lars/Matthew (Netherlands/Matthew), eventual Alfred/Matthew, past Matthew/someone

Disclaimer: Only in my wildest dreams...

* * *

Alfred stared moodily down at his beer, exuding an aura of sorrow and utter defeat. Even the stubborn cowlick that stood proudly apart from his short blond hair seemed to droop sadly. Mouth set in a pout, the young man looked completely pathetic.

The normally cheerful blond had trudged in nearly twenty minutes ago, looking rumpled and sullen, and demanded a drink after plopping onto a barstool. The thinly veiled anger in his eyes and chilly demeanor instantly told Arthur that all had not gone well and that the man was in no mood to chitchat.

If he had to guess, he'd definitely say that things did not go well with Matthew the previous night before.

So Arthur had slid over a bottle of American beer Alfred tended to favor and then silently began drying glasses with a towel, standing far enough away that his younger brother wouldn't accuse him of hovering but close enough that he could watch Alfred.

And they said he had no tact.

So, Arthur waited. He made and served drinks, shouted at people who became too rowdy, and all the while kept an eye on the abnormally silent man off in his own personal, sorry world and sliding him new drinks (he'd drive Alfred back himself later). The atmosphere of anger and pain seemed to swell around Alfred and anyone who approached the bar stayed away from the blond, finding the exuding aura uncomfortable.

Finally, as the rush seemed to die down (since a group of drunken college students had stumbled outside in a giggling mass), Alfred sighed deeply and Arthur felt his ears perk.

"He's on a date." Pained blue eyes looked up at him and Arthur, who was wiping down the counter, stilled and waited for his brother to continue. "Right now. Right now, my Mattie is out there on a date. Right now, he's probably listening to that stupid, ancient bastard, looking right at him and smiling that sweet smile of his—you know, the one that makes you feel like you're the most important guy in the world? And, they're probably sitting right next to each other—_intimate-like—_and the pervert probably has his hand on Matthew's knee and Matthew is probably just giggling and smiling and…and—**damn it**." Alfred swore, slamming down his glass. The alcohol sloshed over the rim of the glass and splashed onto the counter, spilling over his hand, but he paid no attention to it. "Right now Matthew is probably so fucking happy with someone who isn't **me**."

Arthur was silent. He wanted to give Alfred the opportunity to express himself.

"It's not fair." Alfred mumbled, holding his head in his hands. "Why did Lars have to show up now of all times?"

Oh. It was Lars.

Arthur gently patted Alfred on the shoulder, not quite sure what to say. He felt sorry for the poor man. He wanted nothing more than to see his younger brother happy, but how could he blame Matthew? The violet-eyed lad was like a second brother to him and if Lars made him happy, what could he do?

Though, Arthur wasn't surprised by the new information. He had known for years that Lars had doted on Matthew. Francis had once complained to him, going on about how Lars had placed himself into the younger man's world and how he flooded the other's home with dozens of bouquets of tulips that ranged from every color and shade possible. Francis had criticized the man's age (since Lars was somewhere in his early thirties at least) and involvement in illicit activities. It had really only been a matter of time since Lars made his move, especially considering Matthew's adoration of the Dutch man.

But, here was Alfred utterly heartbroken and Arthur felt rather useless.

"Bollocks. You're over-reacting." Arthur tried to say soothingly. "Chances are they're friends and nothing more."

"Or maybe they're fucking right now." Alfred snapped bitterly. He was upset, angry with himself for not acting sooner. He was angry at Matthew for going out with Lars. He was furious that the stupid old European pervert had stolen his thunder and true love.

He couldn't stand the thought of Matthew with someone else. It had been the same with Katyusha. Every smile, every kiss, every touch just added fuel to the inferno of jealousy raging in his stomach. He had been so relieved when the two had finally split, but he had been too cowardly to act. Then Matthew started to date a pretty girl from Seychelles and the inferno had roared to life. Watching the two laugh and converse in rapid French made him gnash his teeth and it took everything he had not to sabotage the relationship because only villains hurt their friends. Then Matthew had that fling with that Communist from Cuba but luckily it was short-lived otherwise Alfred would've kicked that guy's ass all the way back to Havana.

And now it was the same with Lars. He couldn't block the images of the pair. The entire day, thoughts of Lars seducing his best friend, thoughts of Matthew welcoming his advances tormented him.

And it was more than anger. It was despair and it was awful and he fervently prayed to Reagan and Roosevelt and Washington (…oh and God too) that the date would be a disaster and Matthew would kick that old man to the curb and then run to him for comfort because he would totally be standing there, looking really fucking hot, with his arms held out to hold Matthew so the shorter blond could cry on his broad, manly shoulders. And then he would sweep Matthew off his feet and, be all like, "Matthew, don't cry. I'll always love you." And then Mattie would smile and kiss him and then they'd ride off into the sunset on a snow-white stallion.

And that was how it was supposed to be, damn it.

"I doubt they're fucking." Arthur said flatly, somewhat disturbed by the vacant look in Alfred's eyes and the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?" Alfred snarled, shoulders tensing. "Did you have one of your 'fairies' follow them?"

Arthur glared. Ungrateful git. "Just because you're angry, does not mean you can tease me about fairies." Because they totally exist. "And yes, I'm sure because Matthew and Lars just came in."

Alfred whipped his head around so fast that Arthur was impressed that he didn't fling himself off his chair. Indeed, Matthew and Lars had just entered the bar. Dressed in casual, but still nice clothing, the pair seemed to be talking animatedly. However, Matthew's gaze flickered over to the brothers and he waved shyly, giving Alfred an unsure look.

"Why does Matthew look like he's worried you'll try to cause bodily harm and most likely do something incredibly stupid?"

"Probably because I snapped at him last night after Lars left and then stormed out of his apartment without telling him why I was there in the first place."

"Of course." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You really know how to muck things up, don't you?"

"Save the lecture for later Artie! They're coming over." Alfred hissed.

"How many times have I told you not to call me by that ridiculous—Why, hello Matthew. And Lars. It's been a while hasn't it?"

"It has indeed. Nice place you've got." Lars grinned. "Got any Grolsch?"

Arthur smirked. "Haven't changed at all, have you?"

Alfred wanted to throw a dirty look at Arthur for being buddy-buddy with the enemy (even though Arthur actually had a decent relationship with the ashen-haired man), but a hesitant hand on his bicep had him focusing all his attention on Matthew who was looking at him with a worried expression.

"Is everything okay? I know you were upset last night." Matthew said softly, so the other two men wouldn't overhear. Alfred felt his heart clench painfully, acutely aware of how close Matthew was and how kind his violet eyes were and how warm the hand was on his arm.

He swallowed roughly and laughed loudly. "Yeah, no, everything's okay. I don't even remember why I dropped by last night anyways!" He grinned widely, expression not even faltering when Matthew stared at him, unconvinced. "Seriously dude! I'm fine. Honestly, Matt, you always want to talk about feelings like some girl. Do I have to revoke your man card?"

"You're such an asshole." Matthew glared. Stupid Alfred. Always being a jerk when he was legitimately concerned about the American. "At least I don't cry when I slip on ice."

"Hey! You promised to never mention that!" Alfred grumbled. Matt could be such a douchecanoe. "And it happened, like, once."

"Yeah, and you cried like a little bitch." Matthew said smugly. "Maybe you should hand over your man card."

The two began to bicker, gaining the attention of Lars and Arthur who watched with interest as the blonds went at it. It may have seemed vicious to anyone else, but there was no real heat to either man's words. In fact, if Arthur hadn't known that Alfred was facing heartbreak, he would've assumed that nothing was out of the ordinary.

But he could see the tentative way Matthew would pause, briefly, and search for signs of anything wrong with Alfred. And he could see glimpses of raw hurt in Alfred's eyes whenever Matthew blinked.

Arthur held back a sigh. He could only hope that things would work out for the best.

* * *

"So, you were out with Lars tonight?" Arthur said slowly, green eyes calmly locking on Matthew. The blond had slipped back up to the counter to bring the next round of drinks to the table where Lars and Alfred sat along with Gilbert and Belle who had arrived not too long ago. The group was well on its way to getting completely smashed and Arthur could see that even Matthew had consumed a fair share of alcohol that night judging by the rosy blush across the bridge of his nose.

Said blond blushed faintly and averted his gaze somewhat guiltily. "Don't tell Francis, please." He said softly.

"Why on earth would I tell that frog anything?" Arthur grumbled, knowing full well Francis would wear clashing patterns before accepting Lars as candidate for his precious brother's heart. "That's your choice, lad."

Matthew smiled and Arthur felt heat rise in his cheeks. Alfred was right; the boy had a nice smile.

"A-anyways!" He said, looking away to refill the drinks. "How was it?"

"It was alright." Matthew mused, pulling himself onto a bar stool and propping his elbows on counter. "It wasn't even a date really. Just dinner."

"So he kept his hands to himself?" Arthur asked sternly, eyes sharp under prominent eyebrows.

Matthew looked at him strangely. "Why wouldn't he?"

There was an awkward silence.

"…The rest are in the back!" Arthur said hurriedly, turning on his heel and rushing into the back room.

Matthew blinked and when the sandy-haired man returned, he suddenly remembered, "Oh and Gilbert said he called over Antonio and Francis."

Arthur swore. If those two came, no doubt so would Antonio's boyfriend and his boyfriend's brother. That meant Gilbert's brother would come too. And that meant he'd have to deal with two drunken Germans and Belle.

It wasn't even midnight yet.

"Remind me to kill Gilbert later." He muttered.

Matthew smiled brightly, an eerie, almost evil glint in his eyes. "I can take care of Gilbert if you're too busy."

Arthur raised a bushy brow. "You know, Francis and Gilbert made up."

"Yes, and?"

Arthur shrugged. If Matthew enjoyed tormenting Gilbert, then who was he to stop the blond's fun?

He changed the subject. "How drunk is Alfred now?"

"He's talking about you fondly."

"Good grief." The Englishman muttered. He'd definitely have to drive the other home tonight.

Matthew grinned cheerfully and grabbed the tray of drinks Arthur slid towards him and, with a quick thanks, he slowly made his way back to the table, trying not to stumble or drop the drinks.

The sound of a bell twinkling signaled the arrival of the rest of the party and Arthur couldn't help glaring disdainfully at the newcomers.

His mood soured further when Francis sauntered over to him, leer on his face and blue eyes mischievous.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hours later the party had finally dwindled down. By that point, many of the bar occupants had retired for the night, leaving only the close-knit group of friends. All in all, the party hadn't been too awful. Gilbert and Ludwig had only needed to be dragged down from the table three times and Belle and Lars had only argued once. Francis had only groped him five times before Arthur had decked him and he tried to get Belle to comfort him (only to be slapped when Belle wasn't that far gone to realize his hand was trying to slid up her shirt). Lovino hadn't broken anything out of anger and Feliciano didn't break anything out of stupidity. Alfred hadn't burst into tears and tried to woo Matthew through song (he had nearly done it once, Matthias once admitted, but Matthew had fallen asleep before Alfred could finish his voice warm-ups).

Yes, not a bad night indeed.

However, judging by the looks of things, it might be soon.

"I'll take Mattie home!" Alfred snapped, sounding surprising sober. However, he was swaying on his feet. Actually, perhaps swaying was too generous a term. He was flailing about with all the grace of a three-legged baby giraffe and too drunk to realize he was yelling at a fast-asleep Feliciano and not Lars. "'Cause I'm the goddamn hero, got it?" He punctuated the end of his exclamation by thumping his chest.

Lars, who had an arm around Matthew (who was leaning against the taller man and far more interested in the inappropriate tale Gilbert was weaving to realize Alfred was accusing Lars of planning on raping him while he was intoxicated), merely rolled his eyes and said, "You can barely stand upright. How do you expect to get him home?"

"I'll call a cab!" Alfred responded, stubbornly. "But I'll get Matthew home. So hand him over!"

"How about I just take you both home?" Lars asked, knowing full well he had a higher level of tolerance for alcohol and drunken bullshit (thanks to years of drinking with Belle and dragging her home).

Alfred continued to argue loudly and Arthur sighed before calling out, "I'll make sure they both get home safely. Take care of Belle."

Lars glanced at him and nodded grudgingly, setting Matthew down in a chair. Immediately, Alfred shoved Antonio, who happened to be sitting in the chair next to the blond, out of his seat and sat himself down, scooting closer to his friend.

Slowly but eventually the group disbanded until Arthur was left with the two intoxicated blonds.

"Alright, Alfred. Matthew. I'll drive you boys home." Arthur said in a no-nonsense voice. He had no desire to waste anymore time. He'd take the boys to their respective homes, put some trashcans within vomiting range and then go back to his own flat. He could use a strong drink before bed.

He managed to get the two men up and out of the bar before flagging down one of the many taxis that drove around the area (since the area was renowned for its many bars).

Unfortunately, he realized that, in between trying to keep Alfred from falling on his face and blinding himself with broken glass and trying to keep Matthew from taking off his pants (the boy tended toward nudity while drunk, a habit he picked up from Francis, who often partook in it even when not drinking), that he had forgotten to turn off the lights. Ushering the boys into the cab, he commanded them to stay put while he went back inside.

It's just a shame Alfred's listening skills became nonexistent after four beers.

Arthur watched as the taxi disappeared down the street as he roughly ran his fingers through short hair. "Bloody hell."

This probably wouldn't end well.

* * *

Probably not Arthur. Probably not. -shakes head- Yeah, so I've been around drunken people. So...yeah, that explains the lack of detail. So I hope this chapter was okay. Let me know what y'all think! (maybe I'll update faster ohoho~ -shot-) Nah, just kidding. Anyways -cues dramatic music- the next chapter is when **shit gets real**. Get excited~ -prances away-


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, here it is folks. This is the moment, I believe, quite a few of you were waiting for. Thanks to everyone who is following and/or supporting this story. You're all very kind and I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this part. I did my best, so I hope you all will enjoy this~ -.^

Warnings: SEX BETWEEN TWO DUDES (don't like, don't read), language, ...other stuff and did I mention SEX BETWEEN TWO DUDES?

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I don't own.

* * *

"Hey, do you think you could try to get your friend to keep his pants on?" The cab driver asked, watching the pair of blonds in the back from the rearview mirror, nonchalantly. "I try to keep this cab respectable."

"Sorry." Alfred mumbled, struggling to push Matthew's hands away from his belt buckle. The shorter blond had one foot on the back of the front passenger seat and the other stretched across Alfred's lap. Tongue stuck out in concentration, Matthew was fumbling with the buckle of his belt and intent on removing it. Alfred was leaning over and trying to hold Matthew's hands before his friend managed to shimmy out of his pants. "He can't hold his alcohol. And he's French." Alfred added as an afterthought.

The driver made a soft noise of understanding and nodded, turning back to the road. "Don't worry, I'll get you two where you need to be in no time."

Alfred grinned and tightened his grip on Matthew's hands.

Matthew cursed and kicked at the American.

Throwing a dirty look at his inebriated friend (and getting another kick in retaliation), Alfred focused (as much as he could) on making sure Matthew didn't succeed at undressing his self.

Matthew never could hold his alcohol.

Alfred, though he became loud (read: louder) and clumsy (read: graceless), never lost his head after a few drinks. Well, not completely. He could still reason, somewhat. And think things through, somewhat (well, not worse than as well as he could when sober). He just had a higher tolerance thanks to years of underage drinking and good genes.

Matthew, who rarely drank in high school and was fairly small, got drunk quickly. After a few drinks, he'd start getting mean. Then after a few more, he'd start flirting loudly. Then after a few more, he'd start stripping.

And it would always be Alfred who'd drag Matthew back to his dorm room, since he wouldn't be nearly as far gone as his best friend. Of course, if Matt never drank, he'd be the one dragging Alfred's drunken (fat) ass back to the room and making sure he didn't drown in his own vomit.

Though, Alfred never drank as much as he usually would, if he saw Matthew drinking.

However, tonight he was a bit drunker than he'd prefer. But, his mind wasn't so muddled that he didn't realize that he needed to get Matthew back (in one piece or else Francis would skin him alive and turn his sun-kissed hide into stylish boots) and make sure he got to bed. It was a duty he took seriously, which was why he was totally ready to kick Lars in the teeth when the Dutchman offered to get Matthew home.

He was the goddamn hero, goddamn it.

He'd done it for years and he wasn't about to stop. Not when Matthew (drunk and potentially nude) needed him the most.

* * *

"_Christ on a cracker, Matthew." Alfred grunted, hoisting the blond up and draping his arm around a bony shoulder. "You need to lay off the poutine."_

"_Fuck you." Matthew said cheerfully, smirking and purposely dragging his feet as Alfred half-carried, half-dragged him away from the party. "And where are we going?"_

"_Back to your room. I think you've partied enough for one night." Alfred grinned. "But that was one hell of a party, right?"_

"_Yeah!" Matthew laughed, leaning heavily on Alfred. "It was funny when Matthias groped Berwald and Tino punched him in the face." Matthew broke out into a fit of giggles. "I think he broke his nose!"_

"_Ahahaha….yeah..." Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly. Matthew became kinda an asshole after a few drinks._

_The two blonds made their way slowly back to their rooms. The party had taken place, in secret, in one of the upperclassmen rooms. It had been fairly rowdy, but thankfully no one had gotten caught. _

_It helped that the floor advisor was one of the people throwing the party._

"_Al…" Matthew said softly, violet eyes trained on the floor. Alfred, who had been too busy concentrating on the warm body leaning on his own and the faint smell of maple emanating from golden curls, almost didn't hear the quiet voice._

"_Yeah, Mattie?" He asked, blue eyes curious. Usually Matthew never sounded so pensive. Well, usually not when intoxicated._

"_I…really do appreciate this, you know?" Matthew looked up at him then, a pale flush decorating his cheeks. "And I'm sorry you have to miss the party now."_

_Alfred looked surprised and then smiled gently. "It's fine, Matt. The party was getting lame anyways. Besides, I'm a hero, remember? It's what I do."_

_Matthew giggled, then. "My hero." He chirped, sloshing against the taller boy and Alfred was fairly certain he was redder than a cherry._

* * *

Finally, the taxi stopped in front of Matthew's apartment complex. Shoving a handful of bills at the driver, Alfred muttered a quick thanks and, somewhat clumsily, manhandled a squirming Matthew out of the car.

"You need some help?" The driver called out from the open window.

"Nah! I've got it!" Alfred called out, nearly tripping over his feet while trying to keep a grasp on Matthew. The cab driver looked unconvinced. "Seriously! I've got it totally under control!"

With a shrug, the cab driver switched the gear into drive and sped off into the night.

"Okay, now, lets get upstairs." Alfred announced.

"Race you!" Matthew shouted, stumbling towards the stairs, nearly falling flat on his face.

Never one to let a challenge go unanswered, the blue-eyed blond raced after him (after falling flat on his face).

Laughing and trash talking the entire way, the two men finally reached Matthew's floor, only swaying and panting a bit.

"I won." Matthew giggled, falling against his apartment door. Groping through his pockets, the blond triumphantly pulled out his key and began to fumble with the lock.

Alfred, however, was more interested in the way Matthew's backside swayed as his friend struggled with the lock.

Matthew had a fantastic ass, Alfred thought rather dreamily. He just couldn't stress that fact enough. And it was so close too…all he had to do was reach out and those perfectly sculpted globes would be right at his fingertips-"NO BAD ALFRED BAD." Alfred's somewhat rational mind screamed at him, mentally kicking him and getting him to focus.

He would not jump Matthew. Matthew was drunk. He was drunk.

There was no way it could end well.

No matter how awesome and amazing and astronomical and many other adjectives beginning with an A it would be, Alfred would not pin Matthew against the nearest available surface, tear off those pants and make sweet, sweet love to his best friend.

Finally, after several failed attempts and semi-slurred curses in French, Matthew shoved open the door with Alfred, trying very hard to control his raging libido, close behind.

"Okay, Mattie." Alfred announced, shutting the door behind him. "Lets get you to…" the blue eyed American trailed off, jaw growing slack as he stared at Matthew.

In those few, brief seconds that Alfred wasn't looking, Matthew had managed strip down to his boxers and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Matt…where….clothes…yours…?" Alfred stammered, blue eyes locked on the pale, lithe body in front of him.

"I got hot." Matthew said, shrugging and flopping onto the couch, one leg resting on the arm and the other hanging off the side.

Alfred could only stare and mentally repeat: Will not jump Matthew. Will not ravish Matthew.

Matthew, completely unaware of Alfred's inner struggle and boner yearning to be free, was far more interested in the ceiling.

However, with one arm pillowed behind a golden halo of hair and his free hand idly tracing the wispy trail of blond hair leading down to the waistband of his boxers and legs parted, the other male looked like an open invitation, almost taunting Alfred to come closer.

Then, unfocused, dark purple eyes drifted over to him and Matthew smiled wickedly, an expression so similar to the ones Francis displayed that there was no denying that the two came from the same heaven (or the same hell, depending on your perspective).

But Alfred, who's mind wasn't completely invaded by alcohol and lust, knew that he had to get Matthew to bed, no matter how utterly appealing the other man was. He couldn't give into his desires, no matter how strongly they screamed and tore at him. If he did, everything he worked so hard to protect, their friendship, their bonds, their closeness, would be for naught.

And, in their place would be damned regret.

Alfred swallowed roughly and, in a husky voice, said, "That's enough, Matthew. You're drunk. I'm gonna put you to bed—just like I always do—and then you're gonna sleep and wake up at noon with one hell of a hangover. But you'll feel even worse if you don't."

Matthew shook his head. Then, with grace that someone who is plastered should not possess, slid off the couch and sauntered over with a mischievous grin until he was pressed up against Alfred who only looked warily at his friend.

"What if I'm not tired?" He murmured, looking up at Alfred through nearly translucent lashes. He placed his hands against the other man's chest, palms cool against the solid warmth.

Alfred felt his heart rate speed up, blue eyes wide.

"What if," Matthew pressed closer, slender arms reaching up and looping around the other man's neck. "I don't want go to sleep…in that big bed…all by myself?" He inquired, lips a breath away from Alfred's ear.

The American hesitantly placed his hands against Matthew's waist, that annoying voice still screeching about what an awful idea this was and how he should just shove the other man away.

But that voice began to quiet until it eventually faded out.

And all Alfred was aware of was how good it felt to finally have Matthew in his arms and how perfectly the slighter frame fit against his broader one and—

He was never the best listener, even when sober.

Tightening his grip, Alfred crushed Matthew against him and swooped down to capture those tempting lips in a demanding kiss, sliding his hands down that pliant body until he was cupping the other man's rear.

Hell yes.

* * *

Labored breathing filled the room and the bed springs squeaked every so often, but the pair paid it no mind.

Matthew, flat on his back under Alfred, arched upwards, one toned leg wrapped around the other man's waist as the blond aggressively grinded against the man looming over him.

"Fuck, Matthew." Alfred groaned, alternately nipping and panting harshly against that pale neck.

Matthew laughed breathily and turned his head to press a sloppy kiss against Alfred's cheek. "Hurry up."

"Hey, you can't rush sex and expect it to be fantastic." Alfred chided, slipping his hand down quivering flesh and grasping Matthew's member in his hand and rolling his hips, grinding roughly against the other.

Matthew swore and tried to push closer to the older man. Alfred grinned cheekily and slowly pumped the other's cock, casually thumbing the head every other stroke. Matthew, glaring up through sweaty bangs, treaded his fingers through dark golden locks and tugged Alfred's head down for a kiss. Not fighting the action at all, Alfred deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past soft lips and thoroughly exploring the other's mouth.

Matthew whined in the back of his throat and thrust up into Alfred's head. "Stop teasing!" He groaned, tossing his head back against the pillow. "Just fuck me."

"As you wish." Alfred smirked, lube already on his fingers. Without any warning, the American pressed one finger into Matthew's opening, earning a sharp, keening moan in exchange.

Matthew's hands slipped down to Alfred's shoulders and rested there, fingers digging into bronze skin. Alfred winced, certain that he'd have bruises there.

Slipping in another finger, Alfred began to stretch his lover as carefully as he could (intoxicated with a writhing and moaning blond underneath him). His cock throbbed painfully, urging him to hurry the hell up.

Another finger and Matthew was moaning broken phrases in French and English, hips raising off the mattress to meet Alfred's probing and thrusting fingers. The tip of his member was glistening and his fingers dug deeper into Alfred's shoulders.

"Mmm….ahhh..." Matthew's voice was raising slowly, each little moan and mewl and coo sexier than the last. Alfred leaned down and captured the other man's lips, this time drawing him into a softer, sweeter kiss that was eagerly received.

"I love you." Alfred whispered when he pulled away, warm breath puffing against Matthew's lips. For a moment, purple eyes looked strangely clear, like the fog that had settled in them back in the bar had lifted. Kiss bruised lips formed a small 'O' and the rosy blush on his cheeks darkened. Alfred kissed him again, then peppering kisses down his jaw and neck as Matthew tilted his head further back, accommodating the other blond's affections.

"…Please…I don't want to wait anymore…" Matthew whispered, one hand sliding up to tangle in Alfred's hair. "I'm ready."

Alfred slipped his fingers out, one by one, of the other's tight heat. "Okay." Lining up his cock with Matthew's anus, the blond, in a fluid motion, pushed in and immediately leaned down to muffle the sharp cry that started to escape from the other.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Alfred babbled, seeing Matthew's eyes tear up.

The blond gasped a little, nails leaving deep groves in Alfred's skin. Blinking rapidly, a few tears clung to his eyelashes like dew, others fell, rolling slowly down Matthew's face and landing on the pillow.

"I can pull out." Alfred offered, desperately hoping that Matthew would say no and hating himself for wanting to continue.

But, sheathed in Matthew's welcoming heat, it was heaven and hell and everything amazing about life and Alfred felt so close to Matthew in that moment that he never, ever wanted it to end.

"No. No, its fine." Matthew gritted out, slowly loosening his grip. "Just…give me a moment."

Alfred nodded, massaging gentle, comforting circles on Matthew's bony hips. He had been overly eager, thrusting all in at once without giving Matthew time to adjust. He was, pretty much, balls deep in the other and (as spectacular as it was) it wasn't the brightest thing to do. So Alfred placed an apologetic kiss above Matthew's heart, murmuring apologies against the pale skin.

After a few minutes, Matthew's legs tightened around him and, with a fairly impatient nudge, he whispered, "Move."

And Alfred was more than happy to oblige.

They started slow. Alfred, unwilling to cause any unnecessary pain to Matthew, placed both hands on either side of the other's head and thrust gently into the other, dropping little kisses on Matthew's lips.

But, it was Matthew who said, "I'm not made of glass, damn it" with a challenging tone to his voice.

And Alfred, still not able to ignore a challenge, pulled out and, with a smirk, reentered deeply.

"Nnghh—" Matthew panted, then with a fairly evil grin, "That all you got?"

Alfred laughed, pulled out and thrust back in, deeper and deeper, rougher and faster and harder, brushing against Matthew's prostrate in sharp, stabbing motions. Matthew moaned loudly, gripping the other man and thrust back, meeting Alfred at each moment. Their bodies, hot and glistening with sweat in the dark room, moved together naturally, merging and becoming one.

Alfred, now resting on his elbows, pressed rough kisses on every patch of bare skin within reach, one hand tugging on Matthew's member, with the violet-eyed man urging him on.

"You're so fucking hot." Alfred muttered, snapping his hips forward. "You're beautiful. You're perfect. I love you so much."

With a final snap of his hips, Alfred felt his body go taut as he released into that burning heat. With a final twist of his wrist, he felt Matthew tighten around him and moan loudly as he climaxed, cock going limp in Alfred's hand after spilling his load.

Panting heavily and feeling boneless, Alfred barely managed to keep from collapsing on top of Matthew. The two blonds shuddered, riding out the final waves of their respective orgasms. Alfred glanced over at Matthew, noticing that the blond had already succumbed to sleep, no doubt exhausted and satisfied.

With a fond smile, Alfred brushed back a few damp curls that stuck to the fair-skinned boy's flushed and heated face. Matthew, unconsciously, nuzzled into Alfred's hand. The tender act sent another flash of heat straight to Alfred's groin and the man groaned. "Geez Mattie, you'll be the death of me." He joked, stroking the other man's side.

And Alfred, too tired and blissful and just damn happy, scooted closer to Matthew, pulling the other's warm body into a loose embrace.

Welcoming sleep's embrace and floating in post-coitus heaven, Alfred ignored the strange sensation rising in his gut that something was terribly wrong.

Oh well. Whatever it was, it could be dealt with later.

* * *

This chapter went through a few rewrites and even now Idk. Oh, btw, I have never been drunk before, so please forgive me for any mistakes. Just know: Alfred was like "Fuck this" and they had sex. No condom either. Tsk tsk. And, just a note, Alfred is actually less drunk than Matthew but still quite drunk... just...idk... And, though this is not the first sex scene I've ever written, I'm incredibly embarrassed. -becomes flustered like Arthur- I hope it was okay, and if it wasn't, I'm sorry. -falls to the ground and sobs- I did my best! I did my best!


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to everyone following this story. Every story/author alert and fav and review makes me feel so loved. All of you are wonderful. Please enjoy this next installment.

Warnings: language, flashback scenes, slash, mentions of alcohol use

Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

* * *

A shrill buzzing cut through the silence of the dark room. Alfred groaned, slowly coming to as the noise dragged him to consciousness. Shifting on the mattress, the blond opened his eyes, blue eyes tired and hazy from sleep.

"Whazzat?" He muttered, hand coming up to rub his voice roughly. Not quite awake, he licked his lips and winced as the beginnings of a violent headache started in his skull. His mouth was dry and his body was uncomfortably warm under the sheets. He was acutely aware of how much pain and discomfort he was in and, judging by the way his stomach was throbbing, he had a fairly good idea that his body hated him for drinking and was letting him know.

His cell phone gave one final buzz, tapering off into silence much to Alfred's relief. Unfortunately, the blond was too awake to fall back asleep so he rolled out of bed, grunting when he hit the floor before crawling over to his pants to dig out his cell phone. Finally he found it and checked to see who was the asshole that decided to text him at ass o'clock.

Arthur. Of course it would be Arthur.

'_Did you two get home safely?'_

Mind blissfully blank, the blond haired boy had no idea what the text meant.

"Us two?" He said aloud. "What does he mean…?"

A soft creak from behind him caused Alfred's head to shoot up. A terrified expression shot across his face.

"Oh sweet Reagan…I didn't…" he whimpered, screwing his eyes shut. Deciding to bite the bullet, the man looked over his shoulder.

The top of a blond head could be seen poking out from under the blanket.

"Holy shit balls." Alfred gasped, shooting to his feet. "But maybe we didn't do anything? Hahaha, yeah, we just shared a bed. Its not like I had drunken sex with Matthew thus jeopardizing our friendship."

At that moment, in an example of poor timing, the air conditioning started up and a cool breeze caressed his nether regions.

"Ohshitohshitohshit." Alfred muttered, freaking out and glancing around. What to do? What to do?

Unrestrained terror bubbled within him and choking him and clinging and Alfred couldn't deal with it.

He had slept with his best friend. He had been drunk. Sure, he could argue that Matthew came onto him first and who could resist a naked Matthew with eyes that screamed 'come do horrible things to me'? He could blame it on the booze. He could blame it on his sexual frustration. He could blame it on the fact that he was in love with Matthew and tired of being overlooked by said man. It was a moment of weakness and no one would blame him.

But Alfred blamed himself. He had the higher tolerance. He could've pushed Matthew away.

But he didn't. He had done something incredibly unheroic. He had let his weakness get the best of him. He had taken advantage of his best friend in the worst way. It wasn't like when he took Matthew's loyalty for granted, expecting him to back him up in every fight and argument. It wasn't like when he expected Matthew to bail him out.

And now, he could sit and wait for Matthew to wake up, explain what happened and wait for the explosion and hope things would get better.

Or he could leave, pretend it never happened and let things go back to as they were.

Alfred glanced longingly at the sleeping figure on the bed.

* * *

"_He's a good boy, Alfred. I'm glad you're making such excellent friends." George said quietly, patting his son on the shoulder. "Be good to him. He's the kind who'll stay with you."_

_Alfred grinned, ducking his head slightly. "Yeah, I know dad."_

"_And if he wasn't scared off by all your uncles, then he's definitely a keeper." The older man chuckled, gesturing towards Matthew who was surrounded by all of Alfred's uncles._

_Uncle Benjamin seemed to grilling the slender blond on his time in France, in French. Matthew responded in perfect French, pleasantly smiling at the older man. Uncle Thomas eventually stopped his brother, grinning charmingly at Matthew._

"…_Uncle Tom isn't hitting on him, is he?"_

"…"

"_Dad."_

"_I'll go talk to him." George said quickly, abandoning his son to lead his younger brother away from Matthew who was now turning a delicate shade of pink at the attention he was receiving from the leering man._

_As his dad led his uncle away, Alfred caught Matthew's eye and waved, flashing his friend a winning smile. Matthew returned it shyly, quietly excusing himself from the remaining men and walking towards Alfred._

_After hearing that Matthew would be stuck at school over the holidays because his parents were on separate business trips and Francis would be spending the break with Antonio and Gilbert, Alfred had been quick to invite the boy to come back to Virginia with him._

"_Will your parents be okay with that?" Matthew had asked, violet eyes worried._

"_Nah, its just me and my dad." Alfred said easily. "He won't mind. Besides, he's always looking for an opportunity to tell embarrassing stories about me to new people."_

_George, Alfred's father who had light brown hair that was streaked with silver and twinkling blue eyes (that Alfred inherited), had welcomed the Canadian and had him, that same night, flipping through album after album of Alfred in varying stages of undress and age while the blond teen, red-faced, had sulked._

"_Your uncles are very nice." Matthew said once he reached Alfred._

"_You can be honest, Mattie. They talk more than the town gossip." Alfred joked, slinging an arm around the violet-eyed teen's shoulders. "I swear, sometimes when they have to decide something, they meet for weeks at a time even if just to draft something for the company."_

_Matthew laughed as Alfred continued. "Uncle Ben has this weird obsession with France. Uncle Tom is a bit of a player. Then there's Uncle John and Uncle Alex who are always arguing. They have opposing political views, so don't ever bring up politics in front of them. Then there's Uncle Patrick. Don't ever tell him not to do something. He likes his freedom."_

"_Got it." Matthew said, still grinning widely. _

_Alfred said nothing, comfortable with the silence and the din of his family around him. Matthew's solid warmth under his arm was soothing and Alfred was reminded of his father's words. _

_Matt was definitely a keeper._

* * *

Arthur, dressed in his favorite flannel pajamas and newly awake, checked his cell phone one last time, hoping that Alfred had texted him back. When no new messages were displayed, the Englishman sighed wearily and hoped that the two blonds had gotten home safely and weren't facedown in their own vomit.

He really should've known better than to leave those two alone.

Suddenly someone began to pound at his door frantically and loudly.

"Arthur open up!"

Alfred.

Arthur, faster than he cared to admit, went over to the door and pulled it open, coming face to face with a wild-eyed Alfred.

"I've fucked up big time."

Arthur stared at his younger brother for a moment, his bushy eyebrows frozen somewhere near his hairline.

Alfred, blond hair mussed and sticking up in every which way and shirt backwards, stared back at him, glasses threatening to fall off.

Calmly, Arthur straightened Alfred's glasses and pulled the younger man inside.

"I knew this would happen one day. Sit down." He said briskly, leading the man over to an armchair. "Now, I know someone in Jamaica who has a spare room. You can go there until Ivan stops searching for you. Just as for someone called 'Nico' and then lay low and, for the love of God, try not to act too much like you."

"…wait, what?" Alfred blinked owlishly up at the sandy-haired man.

"What do you mean what?" Arthur snapped, hands resting on his hips. "You've drunk called Ivan haven't you and probably said something that could be taken as a declaration of war."

"I have not." Alfred was insulted. He hadn't drunk called Ivan in years.

"Oh." Arthur visibly relaxed. "That's a relief. I was so worried that you'd done something incredibly stu—"

"I had sex with Matthew." Alfred rushed out, blue eyes flickering up to take in Arthur's stony expression.

"I was drunk and he was sexy and drunk and—OW GEEZ" Alfred rubbed the side of his head gently, glaring at Arthur who was raising his hand for another strike. "What was that for?"

"What wasn't that for?" Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. "So what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you and Matthew okay?"

"Well, um…" Alfred laughed sheepishly. "I think he'd be too drunk to remember. He tends not to remember things while drunk—OW. Stop hitting me!"

"Stop being such a idiot and maybe I will." Arthur groaned, feeling a migraine form in between his eyes.

He knew it wouldn't end well.

* * *

"_Tell me again, Alfred. How do you lose a person?"_

"_At least I know who we're looking for." Alfred snapped, a moody pout already in place. _

_Arthur huffed. "You know I'm shite at names."_

"_You're shite at a lot of shit." Alfred said cheekily, deriving a cruel twist of pleasure from the way Arthur squawked in indignation._

"_At least I keep track of my friends!"_

_The pair continued to bicker, ignoring the third member of their party trailing quietly behind them. Matthew, who had been behind the two for a while, sighed, rather annoyed, that both men had a habit of forgetting he was nearby._

"_I'm right here." He said tiredly._

"_Ghost!" Alfred shrieked at the 'disembodied voice' and clutching Arthur's wool coat._

"_Don't touch me, git."_

_But the fear in Alfred's wide eyes began to die down as he noticed Matthew's frigid glare._

"_Oh, hey, there you are Mattie!" He chirped, pulling the teen into a hug. "You really gotta stop doing that, man."_

"_Or maybe you could actually pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that I'm. Right. Here." Matthew hissed, voice venomous._

"_Geez, I'm sorry." Alfred snapped, shoving Matthew away. "But it's not my problem you don't speak up."_

"_And it's not my fault you can't hear over your thunderous footsteps."_

"_Well, that's no reason for you to act like a jerk!" _

"_You drag me away from my date and expect me to be happy?" Matthew snapped, absolutely furious._

_Arthur watched quietly, wondering if he should step in. Alfred, in an incredibly rude and impetuous move, had interrupted Matthew's lunch date with Katyusha, babbling about how Matthew had promised to help him buy supplies for their Zombie Apocalypse Underground Bunker. After several minutes of incoherent ramblings, the curvaceous girl had giggled and told Matthew they could have lunch another time. Matthew had gracefully accepted but his eyes were dark and Arthur had a feeling the rage had just been growing and had only worsened when Alfred and he forgot about the other._

_Alfred had the habit of not thinking things through and this time was no exception. Now he would have to deal with the consequences._

"_You're such a pest! You're so selfish! You ruin everything! Just because you can't have a steady relationship, doesn't mean you can ruin mine!" Matthew snapped, shoving Alfred roughly before turning on his heel sharply and storming away._

_Alfred stood quietly, hands clenched into fists. "Its just a girl. He's getting this worked up over a girl." He said quietly._

_Arthur said nothing._

"_Selfish? Ruin everything?" Alfred laughed humorlessly, tone dull. "He doesn't even get it."_

_And, in that moment, Arthur understood and his heart filled with pity for the lovelorn teen before him._

* * *

"Let me explain, Artie."

"No." Arthur shook his head. "No explaining yourself to me. No more." His green eyes were stern and his voice left no room for argument. "You go clean yourself up and drive your sorry arse back to Matthew's flat and talk to him."

"But—"

"No. Enough is enough, lad. You can't let something like this go ignored and expect everything to be all well and good."

Arthur was tired of watching his younger brother pine after Matthew. He was tired of watching both Matthew and Alfred enter doomed relationships. He knew Matthew cared about Alfred and he knew the two were good for each other.

Francis thought the two would come together eventually (after multiple tries), but even he couldn't have foreseen this obstruction.

Something needed to be done, now.

* * *

So, just a quick note. One reviewer asked why, as guys, would Matthew and Alfred need a condom. It did surprise me, but then I thought I could be off. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I learned in Sex Ed that unprotected sex, regardless of gender, was risky (because of STDs) unless one was monogamous or knew their partner was clean or something (I'm a little fuzzy on the details). Now, I'm not telling people what to do, just what I learned. And, in other male-male sex scenes I've read, there were condoms used. So, yeah, Matt and Alfred probably would've been better off with a condom (since neither is virgin-really) but they forgot to.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please drop a review and let me know what you thought. Cookies to whoever knows who Alfred's uncles are~ XD Good night everyone.


	7. Chapter 7

Oh my goodness, you guys did not have to wait weeks for an update. To be honest, I would like to finish this soon so I can update those other stories just gathering dust. Thank you for all the reviews. I read them all even if I don't respond. In fact, I know who's following this story and/or my updates and I'm flattered. And thank you to everyone who reassured me about the condom thing. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't pulling stuff out of my pocket or that my teachers have been lying to me (I'm lookin' at you Madame!) And I'm glad the founding fathers as Alfred's uncles went over well. Hehe, I'm such a nerd. I was so excited about throwing that in. Alfred's dad was George Washington. Then as follows:

Uncle Tom = Thomas Jefferson (he's a womanizer womanizer -bricked)

Uncle Ben = Benjamin Franklin (he's a francophile, yo)

Uncle John = John Adams (I read somewhere that he argued with Alexander Hamilton)

Uncle Alex = Alexander Hamilton

Uncle Patrick = Patrick Henry (He likes his freedom = "Give me liberty or give me death!" and then, you of course know he added "bitches" before swaggering off XD)

Everyone gets cookies no matter what. Just take extras if you guessed correctly~ You guys are great and I hope you all enjoy this newest installment.

Warnings: slash, language, OOCness, same as before

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and I'm fairly certain I don't deserve to.

* * *

"_Alfred? Alfred?" Matthew ventured quietly, watching his best friend with concerned eyes. _

_The other blond looked up at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open slightly. Unnerved and incredibly worried, the Canadian took a step forward and, ignoring the unwritten code of bros that prohibited any girlish gestures, placed his hand against the other's forehead, wondering if maybe the other teen was ill._

_At Matthew's touch, Alfred jerked back and the vacant look in his blue eyes vanished. The stunned look on his face was replaced by a sheepish grin and the American stepped back, running bony fingers through his neat hair. _

"_Yeah, I'm fine dude." He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, Mai just broke up with me."_

"_Her loss." Matthew said firmly. "And you deserve much better, anyways."_

"_Yeah." Alfred responded absently, watching Matthew with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes. "You think so?"_

"_Of course you do!" Matthew chided, pushing open his dorm door and waving at Alfred to follow. Personally, Matthew had been against Alfred decision to date Mai. The girl was beautiful and brilliant, without a doubt, but it was so hard to please her. There was no winning with that woman. The couple had been cute in the beginning, but it just became tiring after a few months._

_Matthew thought Alfred would be better off with someone lower maintenance, quieter (to offset the other's noisier nature), and who could keep the hyper blond in line without much argument. He wanted Alfred to find someone special and be happy just as he was with Katyusha._

"_You're a fantastic guy Al." Matthew said genuinely, smiling over at his friend who was now sprawled out on his bed._

"_But apparently not a fantastic boyfriend." Alfred grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and crossing his arms under his chin._

_Matthew sighed and fell back on his bed so that he was lying shoulder to shoulder with Alfred. "She just couldn't see what a great catch you are." He smiled softly at his friend. "Anyone would be happy to have you."_

_Alfred, feeling his cheeks heat up and a strange sensation settle in his gut as he took in Matthew's earnest face, buried his face into his arms. _

_Matthew, mistaking the other's reaction for sorrow, immediately wrapped an arm around the older boy and whispered, "Hey, it'll be okay. I'll always be here for you, Alfred."_

_He didn't even entertain the idea that he and Alfred would drift apart after school. Lightly shaking pale blond bangs out of his face, Matthew knew, no question, that he and Alfred would be together. The world could crumble, but he and Alfred would still stand side by side and wait for the end._

_They were a pair and Matthew never wanted that to change. _

* * *

The alarm clock began to wail suddenly, its endless shriek—piercing and vicious like the sound of a hundred banshees—reverberating throughout the room and ear-raping Matthew until he blearily opened his eyes and flailed his arm until he hit the vile object and sent it careening to the floor.

Unfortunately, after cracking open his eyes, the bright sunlight, overly enthusiastic in its greeting, seared his sleep swollen eyes and the slender blond, already in a foul mood thanks to his dry throat and parched tongue, rolled over to avoid the bright light.

But it seemed Matthew was destined to have a shitty morning because as soon as he shifted, a sharp pain shot up his spine, dragging a litany of Quebecois curses as he instantly stilled and waited for his anus to stop throbbing.

And then, of course because he wasn't hated enough by life, his stomach began to rebel, twisting and churning and threatening to claw up his esophagus.

Finally Matthew's brain caught up with his sore and angry body and blurry memories of the previous night flitted across his mind.

Reminiscing with Lars.

Laughing with Alfred.

Fending off Francis's flirtatious advances.

Going home with someone.

Getting naked in his living room.

Dark blue eyes that never left his even as a hesitant mouth worshipped every inch of skin it could reach.

Painfully genuine "I love you"s murmured into his hair.

Matthew shuddered, clutching the pillow with his hand. He could still feel those warm hands brushing up and down his sides. He remembers rocking against that solid body and a warm feeling oozes throughout his body, his fingertips tingling as though every nerve was suddenly brought to life by last night's memories.

It's been so long since someone held him with such care, like he was precious.

But the honesty in his mysterious partner's voice is what stops Matthew's heart the most. It was raw and inelegant but he knew he would eclipse the memories of Katyusha's teary admissions or Angelique's joyous admittance.

And part of him is terrified because he doesn't know whom he went home with, who he slept with. He thinks its most likely a friend but which and, oh God, what if he's done something irreparable to a friend?

He's horrified because, judging by the way his stomach contents are ready to make them selves known, he became completely plastered and he's not the nicest drunk. He doesn't know if they used protection—he could be infected by something life-threatening even.

But, underneath the fear and questions, there is a flicker of desire to find this person and, somehow, Matthew feels that doing so would be for the best.

Of course, first he should probably hobble over as quickly as possible to the toilet before he vomits all over himself and his bed.

* * *

Alfred fiddles with the hem of his shirt, anxiously glancing at the hallway waiting for Matthew to come out. He just arrived, freshly showered (with a boot print of his rear from where Arthur had literally kicked him out) and completely terrified, and—after digging out his spare key to Matthew's apartment—came in and put out two aspirin and some water.

His plan is to first give Matthew the aspirin because that's what he always does first after Matthew wakes up hung-over and, hopefully, after the dull ache fades the wavy-haired boy will be less irritable.

Then he will make Mattie comfortable, offer him food on the off chance that the other boy can stomach something.

Then…

Okay, he hadn't really planned that far ahead but he's can play it by ear too.

"Alfred?" Matthew asked confusedly, slowly entering the kitchen, a slight limp to his walk. Instantly, Alfred's face reddened as he remembered how the other got that limp.

Memories of the other pulling him closer, urging Alfred to thrust deeper as his fingers dug grooves into the other man's shoulders. Images of Matthew, mouth swollen and wet and bruised, hair tossed asunder and body wanton under him almost drags a husky groan out of him, but Alfred grits his teeth and tries to ignore the lust pooling in his gut. But he can't help the vicious voice that tells him that only he can see Matthew like that and to get his ass into gear or else Lars will be the one who comes home to Mattie each night.

And he really doesn't think Lars deserves that privilege.

And Matthew's breath catches in his throat because a wild thought dashes across his mind. Maybe it was Alfred. Because Alfred always brings him home after he drinks and maybe last night something happened—because Alfred drank too—and…and…

Matthew's face colors because the thought of being intimate with Alfred isn't so awful because it's _Alfred_.

"D-did…" He licks his lips and doesn't notice the way blue eyes zero in on the action. "I mean…did we…?" He trails off helpless, not really wanting to ask because the thought that he coerced Alfred into having sex (because he is related to Francis and Lars, through his laughter, once told him that Matthew tended to become seductive and horny after a few drinks) makes him feel sick.

And Alfred is watching him expectantly and suddenly Matthew feels very silly because if anything did happen, Alfred would tell him straight up because Alfred is not one for secrets (mostly because he is incapable of keeping one). So he murmurs never mind and takes the offered aspirin and sits down and waits for the world to stop spinning.

And Alfred doesn't know if he's relieved or upset by Matthew's quick change of topic. But he does know that Matthew remembers something from the previous night.

He watches as Matthew collapses on the couch—the same one he stretched so delectably on hours ago—curling in on himself, twitching when he sees his shirt and pants from last night lying in a crumpled heap, before sighing as he finds a comfortable position. With a fond smile, Alfred can't help but grab the throw and lift Matthew's legs, apologizing quickly when the other hisses in pain, before settling on the couch and draping the throw over them both.

"So," Alfred begins, grinning. "Crazy night, yeah?"

Matthew chuckles into the fabric. "Yeah."

Both sit in amiable silence, Matthew still going over the night's events and Alfred working himself up to speak.

"Listen—"

"Did we—"

Both blonds look at each other, surprised, before bursting into laughter.

"You can go first." Alfred smiles, patting Matthew's hip hesitantly.

Matthew bites his lip, a sure sign that whatever he's about to say is difficult for him. "Did you bring me home?'

Alfred can't help but be proud of the fact his voice doesn't crack when he says no.

Matthew's face falls a bit. "Well, I think…" he flushes and tugs the throw closer to his face. "…I think I came home with someone from the bar last night."

When Alfred says nothing, Matthew rushes to continue. "I mean, I was really drunk and, you know how I get, so yeah we had sex and he was gone when I woke up."

The guilt comes back full force at Matthew's words and Alfred looks away, accidently catching sight of Matthew's discarded clothing. Matthew, however, takes Alfred's reaction as disgust and he clutches the fabric of the sofa and worries his lip with his teeth.

"You're, um, not disappointed, are you?" He asks, violet eyes shielded by his hair.

Alfred jerks his head back to stare at Matthew. "Of course not! Why would you even think that?"

"You just got quiet and I was afraid…" Matthew clears his throat, shifting slightly. "And it was really stupid—"

Alfred laughs sharply with a hint of self-loathing. So Matthew regretted it? "I know stupid, Matt, and that is not really it."

Matthew says nothing, but then gently prompts Alfred. "What was it you wanted—"

"Its not important." Alfred finishes quickly, looking forward.

It would just be best if he didn't say anything.

"Are you sure?" Matt questioned.

"Absolutely." And Alfred flashes the younger man a movie star grin coupled with a wink and receives an eye roll in response. "So was the sex good?"

"Better than drunk sex is supposed to be." Matthew says after a moment, his cheeks bright red.

"Ah, at least it was fun." Alfred says quickly, ready to push past this topic. Its best not to let it linger if he wants to move past this moment and admit his feelings. "It happened, its done, and it was good. I don't think you could ask for a better outcome."

He won't mention last night's loss of control. But he will confess.

And maybe one day, when he and Matthew are longtime lovers, he'll admit to his stupidity and Matthew will forgive him and they will ride off into the sunset on their faithful snow-white stallion.

"Yeah, but…I want to find out who it was." At this Matthew sits up, drawing his legs off of Alfred's lap, as the aspirin works its magic. "It just felt so right."

Alfred feels hope blossom in his chest and he just wants to giggle like an idiot because if that wasn't a sign, what was? He's too busy jumping for joy mentally that he almost misses Matthew's next words.

But then he realizes that Matthew wants to find this mysterious guy and that was most definitely not in the plan.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mattie." Alfred says seriously, not trusting himself not to look Matthew in the eye as he speaks.

"Why not?"

"He could be a total asshole." Alfred argues, desperately hoping he can persuade Matthew to abandon his interest in piecing together last night. "After all, he left didn't he?"

"Yes, but—"

"It was just a drunken mistake."

"He said he loved me." Matthew snaps, grabbing Alfred's arm. "And he was so gentle and he kept telling me I was perfect and beautiful and how much he loved me!" He glares at Alfred, the hazy memories from the past night sharpening slowly. "Don't tell me that that's not worth chasing."

And Alfred feels angry even though he knows that it's technically him that Matthew wants to find. But its frustrating that after all their years together, Matthew is more willing to chase after a one night stand than give him a chance.

"Its not." He grits out, sky-blue eyes raging. He rises to his feet and glares down at Matthew.

"Give me one good reason why not." The other blond demands, rising to his feet as well and locking eyes with his longtime friend.

"Because I'm right here!" Alfred just looks at Matthew helplessly, reaching out and brushing locks the color of marigolds away from his friend's face. "I'm right here and I love you."

* * *

Because I am sometimes vague, Alfred just decided against telling Matthew that they had sex. Instead, he planned on just confessing his love and hoping that the incident (the sex) could just be forgotten forever.

I don't condone this approach.

So, there it is. Matthew does care a lot about Alfred and Alfred finally grows back his balls and confesses. Am I too cruel for leaving it at such a cliff-hanger? ...-glances warily around- Review mayhaps for a quicker update? -is shot- Okay, okay. Lol nevermind. Once a person actually told me not to threaten readers like that. I saw her point but I felt really bad so I won't wait like a year if only 2 readers review. I just like feedback because it gives me an idea of what people are okay with or not. And it helps me avoid overly cliched results. OTL

Anyways, there is really only one more chapter left. -sniffles- This will be the second multi-chapter fic to ever be finished by me. Wowzers...

Right, no more digressing. I hope this chapter was good and I will work hard on getting the next one out without it being total shite. -salutes- I will do my best!


	8. Chapter 8

Warnings: AU, slash, previous warnings apply

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew, hinted past relationships

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia nor do I deserve to.

* * *

Everything seemed to be frozen.

Alfred dared to not even breathe. After laying his heart and feelings and pride and quite possibly everything he held dear on the line, all he can do is watch Matthew, breath bated and eyes wary.

The other blond's only reaction to his confession had been a soft intake of breath as his eyes widening, darkening to a shade of periwinkle, as he processed Alfred's words.

Alfred can only take so much quiet before it becomes suffocating, each passing moment a sharper prick of rejection. Averting his eyes and turning away, he exhales shakily, eyes stinging behind steel-rimmed glasses. His chest hurts.

"Al…"

"Everything Arthur says is true." Alfred said suddenly, false cheer coloring his words even as he hides his face.

"No—"

"I've just gone and ruined everything." His tone is turning self-deprecating and he hates it because he's always been confident and self-assured and damn Matthew for his hesitance.

"Alfred, please—"

"You don't feel the same, I get it—"

"You haven't even let me—"

"—I just couldn't wait anymore—"

"—just shut up—"

"—Years and you've never noticed—"

"—let me just expl—"

"—you've never even looked at me have you?"

"Alfred you deaf idiot shut up!" Matthew snapped finally, an exasperated frown overtaking his features.

Alfred automatically closes his mouth and looks back at Matthew with something akin to apology in his eyes.

"Look, you just caught me off guard." Matthew mumbles, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Its not like I wake up hung over every day and plan to hear a love confession. Especially not from my best friend who swore on Sports Ilustrated that he 'likes the boobs'." At this Matthew levels a look at him—you know, that looks that just makes the receiver feel stupid and ashamed about every single itty-bitty naughty thing they've ever done since they were three years old. Yeah, if that look were an Olympic event, Matthew would win gold every goddamn time.

Alfred can't help but blush when he remembers that time. It had been after the first time he had woken up, mid-hump into his mattress with sticky boxers, after a very explicit dream involving a ketchup-covered Matthew and an enormous Big Mac (no onions) and he had still been in the whole denial stage of I'm-in-love-with-my-BFFF (Best Fuckin' Friend Forever) and wanted to reassert his heterosexuality. Of course, after the third wet dream (in which Matthew hand-fed him Chicken McNuggets while wearing a cowboy hat and bouncing on his dick), he realized that maybe he also liked the cock (as long as it was Matthew's).

(And that maybe he should lay off the McDonalds.)

But we digress.

"You're not just saying this because you're jealous I might not spend as much time with you if I start dating again?" Matthew asks, gently, reaching out to touch Alfred's shoulder. He has to know this now, because Alfred, as he has always known, tends towards jealousy and possessiveness.

Alfred never said it outright, but Matthew knew Alfred didn't like to share. He doesn't want to think that the other man would lie like this just to monopolize his time, but he is not so naïve that he would believe the other is too innocent for such thoughts.

And Matthew smiles, relieved, when Alfred jerks away insulted and, in an incredulous and pissed voice says, "Hell no."

"Then how long?" Matthew, voice soft, coaxes Alfred into sitting on the couch and sits next to him.

"Since Mai and I broke up, I think." Alfred laughs lightly, a somewhat boyishly embarrassed blush on his face. "She seemed to realize it before me."

Matthew looks surprised and then, voice betraying a hint of hurt, asks, "Why didn't you say anything?" He adds, upset. "How could I have known if you didn't say anything?" He'd learn to ignore a lot of physical gestures for the sake of his sanity (it was a survival mechanism he developed for all the times he had to share a bed with Francis during vacation). Unfortunately, as shrewd as he could be, subtle amorous gestures tended to go way above his head.

"I…" Alfred pauses, looking into Matthew's eyes. "…I was afraid that you didn't feel the same and that I would end up ruining everything and that we wouldn't be friends and I thought it would be okay as long as I could keep you close but I can't do this anymore because you want to find this guy and Lars is here and you've always _liked_ Lars and how can I compete when you're so great and you adore him and—"

He's cut off by Matthew's palm pressing firmly against his mouth and Matthew looks like he's torn between laughing and sighing at Alfred's rambles.

"Lets say this now, because you've gotten mine and Lars relationship wrong." Matthew said firmly, keeping his hand on Alfred's mouth. "He taught me how to ice skate when Francis ditched me at the ice rink to go flirt with some girls and stayed with me the entire time. He had just lost his job at the time and was about to be evicted and I asked my father to help him out."

He removed his hand and Alfred, rather dumbly, said, "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'." Matthew rolled his eyes. "And, I'll admit, I did have a bit of a crush on him for the longest time—which is why Francis wasn't happy—but I only think of him now as an older brother." Matthew smiled and Alfred couldn't help but return the gesture, feeling a large weight disappear from his gut.

"And…" suddenly Matthew looks rather unsure and pink and Alfred really, really wants to just kiss the other man right now. "…its not just Lars that I adore." He glances up at Alfred with a hesitant smile and Alfred just blinks.

Oh.

_Oh._

When Matthew continues, Alfred feels a sort of giddiness rise up in his chest at each word.

"And you haven't ruined anything. Boyfriend isn't so far away from friend." He laughs awkwardly. "And all our friends joke that we passed bromance kilometers ago."

Alfred chuckles and, looking at Matthew for permission, takes his hand and entwines their fingers. When Matthew grins at him brilliantly, Alfred wants to kiss the other man senseless.

And he does, leaping forward and enthusiastically pressing his lips against Matthew's, tangling his hands in the other's curling hair and pushing the other man back down on the couch, their glasses clanking against each other.

Matthew bites back a pained groan as his lower back throbs sharply, but returns the kiss, lips moving tentatively against Alfred's.

When Alfred pulls back, he's wearing his megawatt smile. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." His voice is guileless and there's a quiet affection in his eyes that warms Matthew all over and makes his breath catch.

Alfred was, without a doubt, an obnoxious asshole that was sometimes incapable of minding his own business and acted like a fool and got him in trouble a lot. But, as Matthew learned, he was incredibly ambitious and genuinely good-hearted with a desire to make things better. And it was that side that endeared the American to Matthew. He was like a warm presence, familiar and strong, and a true friend. There was probably no one who could come close to Alfred.

He wouldn't lie and say that he became bitterly jealous when Alfred dated someone or that he could claim to return his friend's feelings even now. But he would readily admit that he often thought about how easy it would be to become something more because he cared about Alfred, willingly put him before others. Matthew was fond of the other's smile, his charm, and even the obnoxious asshole his friend could be.

And, as much as he's still curious about last night and wants to know who it was so earnestly in love with him, he knows he can't chase after some faceless man when Alfred is here, wanting him and tired from chasing him.

Because Alfred is the one he trusts the most in the world and it's a slow, warm realization that he'll try because its _Alfred_ and the hopeful smile and bright eyes that remind him of the heart-stopping honesty from the previous night (except better because he knows this person) and he thinks it'll be okay.

And he says as much.

"Because its you, I'll try." He cups Alfred's face with one hand and pulls the other closer in a one-armed hug. "I trust you."

And Alfred seems to freeze as he looks away and Matthew catches a glimpse of something akin to shame in the other's blue eyes.

"Al?"

Alfred doesn't respond immediately but when he looks back at the man lying beneath him, the strangeness is gone. "I'm glad that you do." He smiles. "Because I'd bring you the moon if you wanted. I love you, Mattie."

"Maybe I want the sun?" Matthew teased.

"Anything." Alfred said brightly.

Matthew blushes and laughs and Alfred revels in the sound.

But he can't ignore the little voice in his head that is telling him to come clean because Matthew trusts him and the only reason Matthew is doing this is because its him and he trusts Alfred.

But, and it sickens him to admit this, he can't.

He's waited for years for this moment, for the moment where he could finally shove away his cowardice and confess.

But it's replaced by a new cowardice and a new confession.

He tries to justify it. Matthew seems to be ignoring last night in favor of Alfred. And, it's not so bad because it was Alfred last night and would it really make a difference if he said anything? It's not like anything bad happened.

And, maybe Arthur thought it was the best thing to do but since when has that stuffy guy always been right?

And he won't keep it a secret forever. He'll tell Matt one day. Someday. Eventually. But definitely. For sure. Soon.

* * *

Don't kill me please.

Let me explain myself. A lot of this story didn't go as I planned, to be honest. In the beginning, I intended Matthew to go on a man-hunt for the guy and that it would be hilarious. But as I started writing it, I started to focus more on Alfred and Matt's relationship up to that point and more background things. Like, the sex was only two chapters ago and I just couldn't work in a wacky, misadventure revolving around finding the guy. I also intended on having Alfred confess everything because I know its the right thing (as many of you seem to agree).

But I thought about it and I couldn't do it or make it work.

You see, I don't think I'd do it because I'd be too ashamed of myself and too afraid to lose my friend. Yes, I know that if the truth ever comes out that all hell will break lose. No joke, for real.

Sometimes though, we all know the right thing but we don't do it, for whatever reason. And I can't blame a person when they have a good reason for doing something wrong. Ends justify the means or whatever.

So, this is a bittersweet ending. Matthew does care deeply about Alfred and is going to give this a shot. Alfred gets his guy but nothing has changed for him (still has a secret he's hiding from Matt).

I'm sorry to everyone waiting for a beautiful, happy ending. I wish I could've done that. I wanted to do that, because this story was never meant to have that much angst. Everyone was so wonderful, following this story, reviewing. The least I could've done was do that. But I don't have the writing chops needed.

But, I'm leaving this open to a sequel, if anyone would care to read it or want it. And, if the reception is awful, I will try again to create a happier, better ending and repost because, as much as I write for myself, I post to entertain as well. And since I'm not fully satisfied, I wouldn't mind trying again.

-takes a deep breath and grabs tissues- I think I'm ready.


End file.
